


Pressure on Coal

by Izcana



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Careers (Hunger Games), Cranks (Maze Runner), F/M, How Do I Tag, In the Maze, Original Arena(s) (Hunger Games)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27158278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Izcana/pseuds/Izcana
Summary: (Y/N) Everdeen. One of the female tributes of District 12 in the 50th Hunger Games. From the Seam. A volunteer and contender for the Games. An expert hunter and skilled at creating bows and arrows. Confident, cunning, clever, witty, and rebellious. Beautiful with h/c hair and e/c eyes. The sister of Thomas Everdeen and best friend of Maysilee Donner, and Sonya Issacs. The original owner of the Mockingjay pin.Minho Lee. One of the male tributes selected to participate in the 2nd Quarter Quell. District 12, from the Seam. Arrogant, sassy, and charming. Good at setting snares and using knives. Perfect hair and a muscular build. The best friend of Newt Issacs and Thomas Everdeen.Throw them and 46 other vicious tributes into a poisonous arena...what could possibly go wrong?
Relationships: Background Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark, Minho (Maze Runner)/Reader, Minho (Maze Runner)/You
Comments: 12
Kudos: 10
Collections: Rainy Day Reads, Reader Insert, Where The Fandom Meets The Fandom





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BookwormWerewolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookwormWerewolf/gifts).



> Disclaimer: All characters belong to James Dashner and Suzanne Collins. Main ideas belong to Suzanne Collins, and the rest of the plotline is mine.

Katniss's P.O.V.

**Flashback -**

_"So, how does it feel to be a volunteer for your district? The last volunteer was two decades or so ago, actually! You Everdeens are plucky, aren't you?"_

I zone out everything as I try to listen, but that interview keeps coming back to me. As if I don't have enough to worry about, between the Quarter Quell Games and the uprisings and other issues. Gale, Peeta, how to get everyone out, etc. 

"Katniss?" Peeta says from next to me. "Are you listening?" 

"Uhhh..."

"You have to pay attention, you know," Minho, who's still my mentor, says, annoyed.

"Yeah, sorry."

"Okay, moving on. Training..." I try to listen but end up just breaking down the news reporter's voice and attempting to figure out what's so significant about that sentence. Then I get to the part about the odds not being in my family's favour. _Who else was reaped and never made it back?_ I decide to ask Minho about it, surely he would know something.

"Any questions?" I shake my head with everyone else. Worst case scenario, I can just ask Peeta about it. 

I stay back to talk to Minho. "Why are you still here, Katniss?" He asks, but it doesn't sound that rude, merely curious and a tad bit of annoyed.

"Was there someone else...from my family who got reaped in the games?" I ask quietly, deciding not to sugarcoat the whole thing.

Minho's face becomes closed off immediately and he turns away. Before he does, I catch a tear that trails it's way down his cheek, but I don't press. Maybe I'll ask Mother about it.

**Timeskip –––––––––––––––––––**

"Did anyone from our family get reaped in the games?" I ask Mother. Like Minho, her face drops instantly, and she rubs her eyes, covering her face.

"I'm sorry, Katniss, but I can't talk about this," she says slowly. Prim has come to listen too. "I'm so sorry."

"Okay," I say cautiously and leave. "Come on, Prim," I tell her gently when I see that she hasn't moved. 

**Timeskip –––––––––––––––––––**

"Who's next?" I ask Peeta. 

"You pick," he offers, holding out the box.

I dig in the box to look for one that I want to watch and find one that we have not watched. The year is the 50th, the second Quarter Quell, and the name of the victor is Minho Lee.

"We never watched this on."

"No," Peeta says, shaking his head. "I knew Minho didn't want to. The same way we didn't want to relive our own Games. And since we're all on the same team, I didn't think it mattered much."

"Is the person who won in twenty-five here?" I ask.

"I don't think so. Whoever it was must be dead by now, and Effie only sent me victors we might have to face." Peeta bounces Minho's tape in his hand, thinking. "Why? You think we ought to watch it?"

"It's the only Quell we have," I say, though I'm somewhat saying that because I'm curious. "We might pick up something valuable about how they work." I still feel weird, like we're invading on Minho's privacy, but it shouldn't, considering the whole thing is public. "We don't have to tell Minho we saw it."

"Okay," Peeta agrees and puts the tape in. I curl up next to him with my milk and lose myself in the Fiftieth Hunger Games.


	2. The Volunteer

Minho's P.O.V.

The day of the reaping.

The square was packed, and everyone was buzzing in unease for the 50th Hunger Games. This time it was different since your children had more of a chance of going in. After all, there are four tributes from each district now.

I stood next to Newt and Thomas, my best friends, in the 16-year-old's section while Newt's sister Sonya and Thomas's sister (Y/N) – who also happened to be another one of my best friends and also my hunting partner – stood in the 15-year-old's section with the other girls. They were also standing with Maysilee Donner and her twin, Malia.

"Welcome to the 50th Hunger Games!" The woman, Ava, said. I hate it when she does it with the bubbly accent, like 23, or in this case 47, kids aren't going to die. "And may the odds be _ever_ in your favour!" 

The mayor read the dreaded treaty of treason and the list of victors in District 12. Trina Hawthorne. No one else. She won the 30th Hunger Games by hiding it out in the desert until she only had one tribute to kill. That year, everyone was pretty equal competition since the academy was still launching off in the Career's districts. In 50 years of Hunger Games history, there was only _one_ victor for District 12. 

"Ladies first!" Ava's back now. She daintily picked in the bowl and opened the slip of paper. _Please, not anyone I know, please, not anyone I know..._

"Alina Clinten!" She said and I breathed a sigh of relief. The girl in question walks onto the stage, rubbing her eyes furiously. She's a girl from the Seam. I don't know her, but I did see her at school sometimes. 

I quickly caught another breath in my throat when I realised that there was going to be 3 other tributes. Ava picked another slip out of the girl's bowl, and this time I wasn't _as_ lucky. "Maysilee Donner!" 

I see her now, clinging onto Sonya as she clings back. Malia's crying, but (Y/N) was just standing there. Shocked. Maysilee released Sonya and pried Malia from her. She stiffly walked towards the stage.

When she was about halfway there, someone's voice, one I knew well, rang out loud and clear. Calm, composed, calculated. "I volunteer." 

The girl ran to Maysilee and whispered something to her. "NO!" Thomas yelled at the girl. I caught her face just a split second after he did, and I was tempted to run to her, to whisper comforting words in her ear. But she didn't need that, and I wasn't in the best condition to do it anyway.

I had to restrain Thomas, and Newt had to help so he wouldn't get away. Who knows what they would have done to him. He eventually stops trying and tightens his fingers on ours, agonising sobs escaping his throat.

Maysilee jogged back to the rest, tears trailing on her cheeks. I felt a tight grip on my hand tighten even more, and sniffles.

Ava looked appalled, District 12 had almost zero volunteers. "Well, come on up, then!" She said brightly.

She walked to the stage, but calmly, and I saw Thomas start to choke.

"What's your name, dear?" Ava asked.

"(Y/N) Everdeen," the girl said. 

"Was that your friend?"

(Y/N) crossed her arms. "She doesn't need to die."

The crowd stared in amazement, and one by one, they touched three middle fingers from their left hand to their lips and pointed them at (Y/N). I saw Thomas and Newt besides me, trembling as they put their fingers up too. 

The gesture of thanks, admiration, and _goodbye._

"Well," Ava said, taken aback.

She walked to the boy's bowl and picked out a name. "Tristan Colfer!" I didn't know Tristan that well either, just that he was a rich boy from the town. 

I didn't see Ava attempt to introduce and chat with Tristan, I was too busy comforting Thomas, who had his eyes wide open and was mumbling " _no, no._ " He was still shocked about (Y/N). I was too, and I started to feel a twist in my stomach.

"Now, our last, but definitely not least, male tribute!" Ava said brightly. She opened the last slip of paper. "Minho Lee!" she called out.

_No, no, this could not be happening,_ I thought as I stood there, all eyes on me. It was real. Thomas was having a real breakdown now, and Newt was mumbling " _Bloody Hell_ "every 2 seconds. 

Thomas raised his hand. "I vol–––"

"Don't you dare," I hissed and Newt grabbed on to his fingers tightly. I glanced up at the stage and see that (Y/N) was staring at Thomas, sad.

None the less, I could not show weakness. I channelled my usual sarcasm and sass and swanked lazily to the stage. "Well, now tributes, please...uh...shake hands!" 

(Y/N) laughed a bit and held out her hand. Alina uncertainly placed her hand on (Y/N)'s and I followed. Tristan was the last to join in. The audience somehow managed a watery smile, and at the corner of my eye, I saw Thomas, tears dripping in his eyes. I saw Mr and Mrs Everdeen, who stared at the stage in shock.

The guards escorted us to our individual rooms in the justice building, and I waited there, stroking a velvet pillow. It was relaxing and helped me prepare for the teary goodbyes that my friends are definitely going to give.


	3. Now (The Reality)

_Present Time –––––––––––––_

**Peeta's P.O.V.**

"That's a lot of kids being reaped," I point out as the name "Alina Clinten" is being reaped, or at least on screen.

"I know..." she trails off as we watch the next girl.

"Maysilee Donner," the lady who's not Effie says.

The girl in question is clinging onto two other blonde girls. Both blonde. Merchant's kids. Standing to the side, staring into the distance and eyes wide, there's a shockingly pretty girl that looks familiar. Too familiar. From the Seam. I'm not sure where I've seen her, and I'm not sure whether she's friends with the other girls.

"Oh..." Katniss sighs. "She was my mother's friend. I'm not sure she died in the games though."

"I think that's your mother hugging her," I comment quietly, gesturing towards the blonde with the braid who's squeezing Maysilee's petite frame tightly. Next to her, it's Maysilee's sister, though I don't remember her name.

"Madge," Katniss whispers as Maysilee starts to walk to the stage slowly, stiffly, clenching her fists.

"That's her mother. She and Maysilee were twins or something," I say. "My dad mentioned it once or twice."

I stare tensely into the screen, waiting for Maysilee to go up to the stage. The moment never comes. "I volunteer," the familiar girl says. Calmly. No hesitation. Total conviction.

She quickly runs to Maysilee and whispers something in her ear.

"NO!" A boy yells at the girl, lunging towards the empty space where people had cleared off to give the girl space. Minho, and another boy who's from the merchant side pull him back. His hands tightening on the hand of two boys beside him, he cries, strangled sobs.

I see Katniss's eyes widen. "That boy..." she whispers. 

"Who's the girl?" I ask her.

"I don't know..." she murmurs again. "They never mentioned her in the recaps."

Ava, the escort then, looks appalled, District 12 had almost zero volunteers. I vaguely remember Ceaser's words in an interview to Katniss. _"_ _The last volunteer was two decades or so ago, actually!"_

_The last volunteer was 25 years ago._

"Well, come on up, then!" Ava says brightly.

She walked to the stage, but calmly, and I see the boy who followed start to choke.

"What's your name, dear?" Ava asks. 

"(Y/N) Everdeen," the girl says.

_And it was another Everdeen._ " _You Everdeens are plucky, aren't you?_ " 

Katniss gasps from next to me and squints at the screen. "Everdeen...is that my...aunt?" 

"Maybe," I point towards the girl's face. "It could just be a coincidence, though."

"No," Katniss gapes. "The boy...it was my father. Thomas." 

The girl does look a lot like Katniss and her father. 

"Was that your friend?" The lady on the screen asks.

(Y/N) crosses her arms. "She doesn't need to die."

The crowd stared in amazement, and one by one, they touched three middle fingers from their left hand to their lips and pointed them at the girl named (Y/N). The aunt of Katniss and Prim. I see three blurred figures, but recognisable. Thomas, Minho, and the Blonde.

The gesture of thanks, admiration, and _goodbye._

"Well," Ava says, taken aback. She even forgets to ask for the round of applause.

"Wow..." Katniss mumbles.

"I know," I comment. "It's like what they gave you."

She walked to the boy's bowl and picked out a name. "Tristan Colfer!" _Huh, Colfer._ One of our frequent costumers is a Colfer.

Ava attempts to introduce and chat with Tristan. "Tristan Colfer, everyone! Round of applause!" A few people clap slightly, but it dies down quickly.

"Now, our last, but definitely not least, male tribute!" Ava says brightly. She opens the last slip of paper. "Minho Lee!" she calls out.

Minho was something of a looker, dangerous eyes, flawless hair. Muscular frame, intimidating frown. Clothes that managed to look good on him, no matter their condition.

Thomas raised his hand. "I vol–––"

"Don't you dare," Minho hisses and the blonde clutches his fingers tightly, preventing him from volunteering for Minho, though it was probably for the girl. (Y/N). His sister.

"Well, now tributes, please...uh...shake hands!"

(Y/N) laughs a bit, more like a giggle, and holds out her hand. The other girl, Alina, uncertainly places her hand on (Y/N)'s and Minho follows. Tristan's the last to join in. The audience somehow manages a weak smile. 

She's so confident still after being reaped for the games. When there is twice the number of tributes. And that is something no one can take away. And she never came back. I wonder what happened to her in the Arena.

Katniss seems to be thinking the same thing. "You don't think he killed (Y/N), do you?" She bursts out.

"With that many tributes, I'd say the odds were against it," I reassure her, though I know that there's always a chance. And if Minho did kill her, I'd say Katniss will never be able to look at our mentor the same way again.


	4. Don't Cry

(Y/N)'s P.O.V.

I was escorted to the Justice building along with the other tributes; Alina, Tristan, and Minho. _Minho_. What was I thinking, how could I even think of him as a _tribute_ , just a piece in their Games? He's my best friend. I waited for my first visitors to come, and they did. 

Thomas, Mother, and Father came in, Mother and Father practically hysterical, and Thomas trembling, tear tracks cutting into his olive coloured skin. 

"You were about to volunteer!" I yelled at Thomas. "What were you thinking?"

"I'm sorry, (Y/N/N), I just want to protect you," he said, looking down. 

"It's fine," I mumbled, letting out a breath.

"I love you (Y/N), please try to make it home," Thomas said. "You're smart, you know how to use weapons. You know how to make bows and arrows. You can win." He's right, I am good with a bow and arrow, we go hunting all the time, and I make the bows. He still has them, and I hope he'll teach his future kids how to use them.

Tom uses the bows and arrows that I make, but he prefers snares, though he's still amazing with the bows and arrows.

"I know, Tom," I said, calling him Tom as I used to when I was a kid. "But what about Minho?"

"What about him?"

"He...only one lives..." I trailed off.

"It's fine, think of a plan when you get there," he said. 

"We love you so much, (Y/N)," Mother said shakily and came over to hug me. Father hugged me too, but he didn't say anything. He wasn't much of a talker. 

"I love you, (Y/N)," Father said to my surprise. "Good luck. Do what Thomas said, make a bow," He advised.

"Okay, I will," I said and hugged all of them. "I love you guys, too, and I'll try to win. Really." Silently, I told my self that I might want to live, but if the final two are Minho and me, then he lives.

Then the Peacekeepers came in and dragged them away. "I love you!" They all cried and I yelled it back at them, blowing them a kiss. 

I had managed to not shed a single tear, but one slipped out after they left the room. I wiped it away impatiently and check myself in the mirror that's conveniently in the corner of the room. _Perfect,_ I thought. There was no trace of the tear. That was good since there were more cameras in the train station.

I had just sat back down on the sofa when Newt, Lizzy, Maysilee and Malia burst into the room. 

"(Y/N), I can't believe you volunteered for me, what were you thinking?" Maysilee cried hysterically. 

"I wanted you to live," I said simply.

"But you will, won't you?" Lizzy, or Sonya, as the others call her asked me. 

"I might not," I whispered, but it sounded so loud in the silence. It felt real to admit it, to admit the fact that I probably won't make it out of the arena alive. 

"But I'll try," I promised, making the same one I made to my family. "Really, really, hard," I added.

"Here, wear this as your token," Maysilee said handing me a pin that I hadn't noticed. 

I got a good look at it before she pinned it on my dress. There's a bird that's midflight, and the pin was shaped in a circle. A Mockingjay.

I thought of all the memories of Tom and I laughing in the woods with Minho, us roasting chestnuts in the one-roomed concrete house. The lake with katniss tubers and singing to the mockingjays, which they'll echo.

The pin was made of gold, and enough to keep a family in bread for weeks. I was jealous of this, but it's not Maysilee's fault. Not her family's fault. It's the Capitol's fault, and I swore right there and then that I was going to contribute to an uprising, even if it was only a little bit.

"Thanks, Maysilee," I said, quietly. Malia, who hadn't said a single word, gave me a hug. One full of tears and sadness, goodbye, but it was still a hug.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)," she said sadly. "We love you," Malia added, sniffing.

"Yeah," Newt agreed, his eyes watery like they were holding back tears.

They pulled me in for a final hug, and the Peacekeepers come. 

"See you!" Newt said and they were marched out. 


	5. Wear Something Nice?

Minho's P.O.V.

After all the tearful goodbyes, we were piled into a car and they drove us to the train station. I studied everyone's faces, (Y/N) looks calm, Alina appeared to have cried more, Tristan had a red nose but otherwise, he looked fine, and me...well, I got a look at myself in the camera and I looked the same as I always did.

I looked to the side where I saw Tristan and (Y/N) talking. She's laughing at something he said. I felt an odd twist in my stomach again, but this time I just wanted to _strangle_ Tristan for daring to make her laugh.

"Min?" (Y/N) waved her hand in front of my face. I saw that I had spaced out for a long time as (Y/N) had stopped laughing and both Alina and Tristan were staring strangely at me.

"You might want to focus, Shank," Trina yelled from the front seat. "We're at the train station, now." 

Trina and Ava exited the car first, followed by (Y/N), me, Alina, and then Tristan.

The cameras at the train stations pause on our faces, and after that, we all went onto the train.

The tribute train was even fancier than the Justice building, and we all stared around in wonder.

"Wear something nice, and be at dinner at six," Ava said and went off to her own room. Trina followed and we all shrugged.

"Well, wear something nice?" Alina said and (Y/N) smiled.

"Okay..." I said and turned to walk to my room. "See you!" I called back.

I turned the corner and headed to my room. On the way, I heard an exchange between Alina and (Y/N).

"Do you know Minho?" Alina asked (Y/N).

"Yes, why?"

"Nothing, you just seem really close, that's all," Alina replied, giggling. "Are you guys...together?"

"Uh – no...we're just friends..." (Y/N) replied, and her cheeks turned a very noticeable red. I felt my cheeks turn red as well, and my heart and stomach flutter. _No, not flutter. My stomach_ did not _just_ flutter _._

"Never mind, forget I asked," Alina said, smirking. 

"Well, I'll go change now," (Y/N) waves awkwardly and Alina did the same. "See you at dinner!"

I quickly retreated my room and explored. The room had many fancy items and was basically the size of my entire house. I went to the bathroom to take a shower, something I'd never done before and used shampoo. We didn't have shampoo at home, we just used the plain soap.

Once I finished scrubbing myself, I comb my fingers through my hair and it actually looks _good_. Hopefully (Y/N) would notice. _Oh great,_ I groaned. _Not this again!_

I put on the button-down shirt that was coincidently at the front of my closet and some trousers. Since I had time to kill, I went around the room, pressing random buttons. One raised the heat on my "toilet seat", and I thought it was exploding, not because I pressed a button.

It was finally time for dinner. I went down the corridor again and no one else was there except for (Y/N). She was wearing a shirt and a pair of shorts that went well with her (e/c) eyes and (h/c) hair, which was done in two fishtail braids **(A/N: I'm sorry if you have short hair)**.

"You look beautiful," I told her, the words tumbling out. _It's the truth._

"Thanks," she said. "You don't look too bad yourself," she joked, or I assumed she was joking.

"Really?"

"Really," she said. "You look nice with that blue shirt." That was my cue to turn a furious shade of red.

"T-thanks," I stuttered.

"Well, looks like you are here early!" Ava said brightly. Trina followed behind, looking a bit tired.

We waited for a few minutes before Alina and Tristan came out from their compartments, wearing nice clothes. 

"Introductions first, shall we?" Trina asked. She didn't wait for us to answer. "I'm Trina Hawthrone, your mentor. And we already know who you are. And she's Ava Paige, your escort."

"Now let's talk strategy," Trina continued. "In training, I suggest you try to find _some_ allies. Try to impress some of the other tributes, and find allies that are useful to you."

"How do we do that?" Alina said. "They don't want to be with District 12."

"That's specifically what I was going to continue on," Trina muttered. "Any talents you have that you want to share, or you can talk with me later?" She offers.

"Min knows all of my talents, but I don't really know you two," (Y/N) said, directing this at Tristan and Alina. 

I do. She knew how to make bows and arrows, really good with throwing a knife, and good with hand to hand combat. Okay with snares. Not to mention the vast knowledge of medicinal herbs and edible plants we've acquired through our time with the Whitemans' (Newt and Sonya) and hunting. 

"I don't have anything except for lifting weights," Tristan mumbled.

"I can use a dagger for hand to hand combat, run, recognise herbs and edible plants, set snares, and lift weights," I offered. I didn't really care if they know this, it's not that important. They'll see at training, anyways, if I decided to do what Trina said.

"What about you, Alina?" Trina asked.

"Nope, nothing, except running, maybe," she said quietly.

"(Y/N)?" Trina asked. "Would you like to share?"

"I can," (Y/N) said. "You'll find out at training anyways."

"All I know is that you can shoot really, really well with a bow and arrow," Tristan chimed in.

"How do you know?" I asked, perhaps a bit _too_ defensively.

"My uncle buys her meat," he commented lazily. "He always comments on how each carcass is still perfectly in condition, and the skinning is also very well done."

"Okay...thanks, I suppose," (Y/N) said, still bewildered at our exchange.

"Is that all?" Trina asked.

"Uh...Min, you go ahead. Whenever I try to think of things on the spot, I come up blank."

"She's a natural with a bow and arrow and can make them, amazing at knife throwing, good with hand to hand combat, especially if she has a dagger, knows how to light fires and set snares. Fast runner. And you know, medicinal herbs and edible plants."

"Wow," Alina whistled, impressed.

"Yeah..." Trina trailed off. "I can't see the bow and arrow demonstration, but show me what you can do with a knife."

"Uh..." (Y/N) mumbled, scrunching up her nose adorably. Eventually, something brilliant did come, I suppose. She ran off quickly to the rooms, and then after a while, came back with a round pillow. 

She grabbed a couple of knives from the table and propped the pillow up. "I'll throw the knives at the centre." She flicked her wrist and I barely had time to blink twice before all three knives were dug into the exact centre of the pillow, the sharp blades cut into the fabric.

"Pretty good," Trina commented and (Y/N) smiled in thanks. "Anyone else want to do a demonstration?"


	6. Tristan Colfer

"Tristan, Rogan, m'boys!" The man boomed. He was getting a little old but was still energetic as always.

The man handed the boys a piece of greasy salted rabbit meat each. "Eat up, it's your special treat!"

Tristan smacked his lips together after taking the first bite. "Uncle, this meat is really good!"

"Did you get it from the butlers?" His brother adds. They usually ate butler meat, horse, chicken, deer, if they could afford it.

"No," the Uncle said, ripping a large piece for himself. "A little girl from the Seam sold it to me, actually..."

"Was she poor?" Rogan asked.

"Well, yes, but they had good meat," Uncle frowned.

"Can we buy more?" Tristan asked eagerly.

"Yes," the man said. "Boys, when you grow up, buy meat from the Everdeen's. The rabbit didn't have a hole from a weapon in its body, right in its eye, I think. Brilliantly shot."

"Uncle, do you think the little girl shot it?" 

"Probably. She's a good shot isn't she?"

And 7 years later, Tristan Colfer was thrown into an arena with the Everdeen girl who never misses. Who is natural with a bow and arrow, doing things no one else can. Who's proven herself with a knife. Deadly aim. A vast knowledge of survival and experience with hardship. 

And with those odds, Tristan knew there was not a chance he'll win.

But he hopes (Y/N) does. She had people at home who cared about her. She'll make District 12 better than it was. 

But if he had children, he would give them the same advice. Buy meat from the Everdeen's.


	7. Ya Lovebirds

Minho's P.O.V.

I decided to do a demonstration, since there's not much else to do and might as well show my mentor what I'm capable of. I moved all the items on one line away, and (Y/N), who knew what I was gonna do, counted from three to one while everyone else watched curiously.

I sprinted like I'm back in the forest, racing my friends, especially when I went hunting with the Everdeen siblings. It was usually just us since Newt, Sonya, Maysilee, and Malia didn't need to hunt (they were from the town after all).

We were jealous, but there wasn't anything the Whiteman or the Donner children could do – there was only so much money their parents could give us out of sheer kindness, after all. In District 12, it's every person for their own.

It took me precisely 5 seconds to sprint from one end of the train car to the other. (Y/N) laughed slightly at my impulsive idea and decided to try it again, sprinting the same route and the result was roughly 6 seconds. 

Alina and Tristan both tried, and they both had somewhere along the lines of 8 seconds. The two or three seconds could cost you your lives.

Trina hummed for a bit and considered. "(Y/N), I'm gonna need to see you in a dress."

"Why?" (Y/N) asked, pulling a face.

"Because your stylist will most likely put you in a dress."

"Why don't _they_ ," at this, she gestured towards the three of us – "have to change?"

Trina sighed. "Because _they_ are already wearing suitable clothes."

"Fine," (Y/N) scowled, and trudged her way to her compartment.

It was an awkward few moments of silence as we all waited for (Y/N) to finish changing. Slowly, (Y/N) dragged her feet back, and she was wearing a dress that perfectly complemented her eyes and hair **(A/N: I'm not going to mention the colour of the dress because one dress may look good on someone and not on someone else, and you're you. I don't know how you look like, so I can't play the beautician...)**

My jaw dropped slightly – oh, who am I kidding, it practically thudded to the floor – and I'm pretty sure I drooled. She was just _that_ beautiful. The colour suited her, and I felt the butterflies in my stomach having a full-on stampede, and my cheeks turned neon red after (Y/N) looked my direction.

I looked down, hiding my red cheeks. "What do you think?" She asked and no one replied. I looked up to see what was going on and...well...they were all staring at _me_. 

"Earth to Minho?" Alina said, waving her hand in front of my face and giggling.

(Y/N) frowned. "I was talking to you, you know," she said, and this time it was _clearly_ directed at me. Yes, me as in Minho Lee, the boy who got reaped as the fourth District 12 tribute, from the Seam, and the boy who just realised that he had the biggest crush on – wait, WHAT?

"U-Uh...i-it looks n-nice on y-you, I –––it ––– UGH!" I threw up my hands in impatience while everyone laughed at my expense. 

"That good, huh?" (Y/N) joked.

"Yeah..." I muttered, but she caught it.

"Oh, does Little Minho like the dress?" She mocked. 

"I don't like the dress, I just like it _on you_ ," I sassed back, grasping the sudden strand of courage.

"Thanks, I guess," (Y/N) murmured and sat back down. And I was happy she didn't change out of the dress. She probably just forgot.

"It could work to get more sponsors, though," Trina mused, looking amused at our conversation. 

"The dress?" (Y/N) asked, confused.

"No, your beauty!" Trina rolled her eyes. "All four of you don't look half bad, though you three need a bit more fat on your bones," she added, talking about the three from the Seam.

"Wait, you weren't kidding?" (Y/N) asked and I resisted the urge to smack her for her obliviousness.

"Well, you _do_ look good if that's what you meant," I deadpanned, rolling my eyes.

"Thanks, Minho," she said, fake bashful.

"You're welcome," I gushed, just as sarcastically.

"Enough, you two," Trina grumbled. 

"Yeah," Alina agreed. "You sure you're 'just friends', (Y/N)? You guys don't act like friends..."

(Y/N)'s cheeks turned a pink shade, but I bet they're nothing compared to mine. They felt heated, like _heated_ , enough to fry an egg.

"Uh-huh," Tristan butted in, the two seemed to gloat in our embarrassment. "Just friends...the red on your face says the _exact same thing_."

"Leave us alone," I grumbled.

"Ah, young love," Ava swooned, brushing her hand on her forehead dramatically.

"For goodness sake – not you too, Ava!" (Y/N) mumbled, burying her face in my shoulder.

"Well, you do seem...rather...attached," Ava argued, pointing towards where (Y/N)'s head was buried in between my shoulder blades. It did fit well in there, rather like my shoulder blades were cut into the perfect angle to fit her chin.

(Y/N) just responded with a groan and buried her face further in, slightly tickling my shoulder with her nose.

"Guys, give us a break," she whispered, though it was extremely muffled by my clothes and limb. "Go on about that strategy, Trina."

"Alright," Trina said, back to business again. (Y/N), seeing this, took her face out of the crook of my joint. Her face was still slightly distorted, hair messy and nose red.

"So what you wanna do is hide your _best_ skill, and show them a couple that will impress everyone but won't really incriminate? you. Your pick; sponsors or mercy from the other tributes."

"You've had a long day," Ava added, shaking her head slightly. "We'll watch the reaping recaps, then go to bed, we can talk more strategy after the tribute parade tomorrow." _Right. The parade. I wonder how they were going to do it this year, with four tributes and all. Were they gonna fit four in the same carriage or put them into two pairs?_

"Come on, (Y/N/N)," I smirked slightly. "Let's go see our competition."

"Ya lovebirds forgot we existed?" Tristan huffed.

I ignored him, instead offering (Y/N) my hand for her to take, gently brushing against her knuckles after she did so.


	8. The Odds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I forgot to post this code sooner:
> 
> E/C = Your eye colour  
> H/C = Your hair colour  
> Y/N = Your name  
> Y/N/N = Your nickname (if you don't have one just replace it with Y/N)

Minho's P.O.V.

The reaping started on TV. "Welcome, citizens of Panem, to the 50th Hunger Games Reaping!"

The shot cut to District 1. "Welcome, welcome, everyone, to District 1's reaping for the 50th Hunger Games!" They skip the introduction of the woman on stage.

"As always...ladies first!" She picked up a slip of paper daintily. I can understand that since her nails look like claws, but fragile pieces that'll fall off from the smallest whoosh of wind. "Our first tribute is...Brenda Georgia Despain!" The girl, Brenda, walked up to the stage proudly, her head held up high. You could tell she wanted to be there. She looked about 17. "Round of applause for our first tribute!"

"Brenda Despain..." The reporter said, her tone bored. "She looks strong, perhaps District 1 will have a winner!"

"Ahem...Rachel Anderson," The woman with the wig called into the audience. The second girl looked nowhere as enthused as the first girl, though she was somewhat positive about her situation. That girl had dirty blonde hair that was almost brown in colour, though still blonde enough to be _blonde_ , and she was 16, maybe. 

The reporter made no comment about Rachel Anderson.

I mentally tallied up my – no, our – opponents in my head. Brenda was definitely one, you could see the muscles bulging from her arms and the cunning streak in her eyes. Rachel didn't seem like a _huge_ threat, though she was a District 1 and they trained before reapings. Careers usually did. And her whole "I'm not happy to be here and I'm not huge competition" deal? That could just be an act.

"You 4 should do good to avoid that Despain girl," Trina commented, shaking her head. "Unless you want to team up with the Careers, of course. Even then, you should be cautious around all of them. None of them will hesitate to kill you."

"Next up...Jorge Gallaraga!" There was another polite round of applause for the 18-year-old boy who made his way on stage. 

"He might win...That kid looks muscular..." the reporter chimed in.

"Yeah, he might," Alina said, glaring at the screen with a vengeance. "And we'll be dead."

"Perhaps you should think more positively, Alina. It won't help to act like a pessimist," (Y/N) snapped back. Huh? When did she move her head so it was leaned on my shoulder? Not that I mind, it's a comforting presence and we're all coping. I'm just making excuses for myself, now.

"You guys are cute," Tristan grinned. (Y/N) and I (in sync, in case you were wondering) glared at him. "It's true." 

Because of him, we missed Male Tribute Number 1's reaping. 

"That was Hans Christensen," Trina told us, shaking her head disapprovingly at our banter. "He's not that big of a problem; little guy looks only about 13."

"Hmmm...Poor guy, he doesn't stand a chance, does he?" The reporter murmured, dabbing away with her handkerchief.

(Y/N) snorted. "She's one to speak considering she's letting this happen."

"You shouldn't say that here, (Y/N/N)," Ava whispered, her face painted with shock. 

"Don't call me (Y/N/N)," (Y/N) said, but I could tell she got the point. There was surveillance on the train, ready to stamp out any fight, rebellion from the tributes or their mentors/escorts.

"Now to District 2!"

* * *

All in all, I'll admit it – I didn't remember _everyone's_ names. But that was fine. I thought I remembered plenty.

There was Gally, Teresa from District 2. I remembered them because they volunteered. Both of them looked like they had just gotten out of Career's Academy or whatever they called their training centres. There was also Jeff from 5 and Alby, Siggy (I remembered him because he said he wanted to be called Frypan?), and Harriet from 11. All three were very muscular but they obviously didn't have enough to eat.

Last (and least, of course), was District 12. "The last District to go," the woman said, her tone implying that she'd rather be doing whatever Capitol people do in their spare time. Probably file their nails and tattoo their faces with big gems.

"Welcome, welcome!" Ava said on stage. The Ava sitting close to me cringed.

"My lipstick was smudged on stage!" She whispered, mortified.

I squinted but I did not see a single lipstick smudge. "Ava, you can't even tell," Tristan said as if he was reading my thoughts.

"The first tribute – Alina Clinten!" Ava on stage called out. The clip zoomed into Alina's walk onto the stage, and I saw (close up) that her eyes were blinking rapidly and she had a piece of her dress bunched up in her hands. "Round of applause!"

Then, (Y/N) was called out. She was something fierce, indeed. Maysilee comes up and a tear slips out of her eye. (Y/N) sounded exactly as I remembered. Cool. Convicted and confident. No stutters, no voice breaks. The 3 finger salute to her made the reporter speechless and for that, I kissed her on the cheek. (Y/N) grinned at me whereas Tristan made fake gagging noises.

"I still ship you," Alina said from her reclined position on the sofa.


End file.
